The spinward heresy
by ArcPrincess
Summary: Accused with the crime of having won a battle that gave more glory to her than her superiors, major Clarence Mora is hastily assigned as commanding officer of the 76th Gradius, 4th company, a backwater feral planet in the middle of nowhere and just outside of the Spinward front's area of interest. But the glory hog refuses to stay put in the tropical jungles of her new planet...
1. Part 1 - Succour from Scintilla

As soon as the shuttle's engines fired up, Clarence knew something felt off, it was at the very least unusual for her to be the only passenger en route to Gradius; of course she wasn't the only living and breathing person aboard, but none of the others were going to actually stay. Just until a few minutes earlier she almost had to elbow her way through the crowd of techpriests busy loading the shuttle she was on, and she had to move her own luggage several times because apparently there was not enough space in the cargo bay for everything and over half of the seats were full of boxes and metal crates bearing the imperial two-headed Aquila and the Adepto Mechanicus seal.

In theory, she thought, she was supposed to be informed about the contents of all the crates behind her, but in practice such information was confidential and only for the eyes of the quartermaster and officers of the 76th Gradius. While Clarence was transferred there, a by the book reading of the regulations about imperial guard procedures revealed she was, officially, still serving as senior officer in the 118th Scintillan Fusiliers until the very moment she disembarked on Gradius and signed all the proper paperwork.

Judging from her past experiences, not to mention the tactica lessons she received back when she was still a Schola Progenium cadet, the vast majority of those supplies was most likely made up of ammunition; from what she could understand by reading the reports on the dataslate they supplied her, Gradius was a feral world bordering the outer reaches of the Astronomican, it was currently not at war and its population numbered a handful of billions. Food production was most certainly not an issue, but they likely had little to no ways of producing ammunition or advanced machinery, which meant they weren't going to have many tanks, possibly not much of an air force either, and who knew how much artillery they could rely on.

More importantly, she had to consider what to do for the following few hours of her trip. She was more than certain nobody was going to bother her unless she specifically asked for something, but she was content enough with the arrangement: she had seldom found techpriests to be good conversation partners, and her past relationships with them were somewhat tense due to the constant clashes between her necessities of using war supplies and their insistence in following rituals by the book paired with their extreme jealousy of their niche.

Clarence's attention then returned to the two rows of seats still available; they were not exceptionally comfortable, but having twelve spots all for her meant she could use them however she pleased, and this was tantamount to luxury for her standards, where even officers had cramped quarters and little to no comforts during military manoeuvres. She could have just sprawled across several seats and browsed her dataslate for additional details on Gradius until she eventually dozed off, but she didn't want to risk someone seeing her in such a carefree state.

In the end the old habits got the best of her and she simply closed her eyes, dozing off while sitting upright and correctly like a proper lady, even with her arms crossed and her back only relaxed enough to slump with dignity. Despite the very long travel, she had to switch rides several times before finally boarding the shuttle for the surface and sign solid layers of paperwork every time, and she could never sleep right while navigating through the Warp; there was always a nagging feeling of everything being terribly wrong hitting the back of her head like a ram, and according to some navy officers she talked to it was something one never gets used to.

Only when she woke up did she realize she had fallen asleep, but without regrets: her mind was clearly too clouded with worries she couldn't handle before their time and rest was all she needed. A quick check of her chrono informed her that the ETA was about ten minutes, just what she needed to refresh herself before landing.

When one of the younger techpriests, with very little in the way of mechanical augmentations, arrived to inform her that they were about to enter atmosphere, she had already strapped her belts and secured her luggage, and only needed one glance and a firm nod to give the message that she was ready, and no part of this procedure was new to her.

Being a military-issue shuttle there were no windows to look outside, but she knew for a fact that orbital traffic around Gradius was very light: not only the planet itself was rather close to the edges of the Imperium's already vast territory, it was a feral world with little in the way of industry and not much else that could be of interest to the rest of the galaxy. Clarence did not have a profound understanding of the merchant trade, but she knew for sure that commerce ran on profits, and a place both distant and not ripe with thrones did not register as a worthwhile waypoint to most.

A light but constant vibration ran through the shuttle's frame; the metallic tinkling behind her confirmed her suspicion about the crates being full of ammunition, though it was a wonder for what reason they stocked but one shuttle full to the brim instead of using more. If Gradius lacked worthy industries, the supplies were most likely consisting of artillery shells, possibly bolter rounds or other heavy calibre weapons. Still, having just one shuttle for such supplies ran contrary to every sense of military scale she could think of.

As soon as the shuttle stopped moving and the engines stopped roaring, Clarence repelled those arising doubts without answers away from her attention and unfastened her belt with wasteless motions. By the time the young techpriest had arrived to call her, she was already ready to depart and no words needed to be spoken.

* * *

Clarence's first impact with her new assignment carried the heavy smell of nature; the air had more oxygen than her homeworld used her to, and her recent and somewhat long trip aboard several spaceships made her forget about the sheer amount of things that join the atmosphere from various sources. Suddenly, she could smell plants, pollen, humidity, perfume, paint and much else, though the sudden assault to her senses that came through her nose made her pause for a moment and hesitate before stepping down from the shuttle.

She found herself atop an open-air platform in the middle of what must have amounted to an important structure in this world. The tall, steel gray and brass-edged tower right next to here was but a shack compared to the luxurious, multi-tiered structures of Hive Sibellus, and the various bridges and connectors that allowed passage from the shuttle stations to the rest of the docking facility appeared as a vulgar toy, only fit for the children of those without breeding, to the eyes of a scintillan.

A light wind nearly threatened to budge her tricorn hat and Clarence realized that no matter where she looked, the dominant colour was green. Thick forests, or rather jungles considering the humidity, filled every visible part of the landscape, interrupted only by grassy meadows where the vegetation was nonetheless tall. Thanks to the elevated platform, she could also notice that slender but numerous rivers slithered through the land, occasionally forming lakes following odd patterns.

Before she could actually focus on the landscape and start to notice how odd it was on a second look, she forced herself to walk forwards, luggage in both hands and a backpack to boot. It took her but a glance to see that there was only one way out of that platform, which was to go inside that landmark tower, considerably taller than any other of the few structures in the landing complex.

A figure was waiting in front of the only entrance, a large hangar-like passage left widely open as if to accommodate the transit of vehicles, which were however absent at that moment; it was a tall, lanky man with a thin face and sunken features, sporting an odd smile further enhanced by the high cheekbones. The clothes he wore were far from what Clarence expected from a feral world: red and green fabrics, thick enough to barely sway in the wind, trimmed and sewn in gold forming simple yet alluring decorations. The jewelry he was carrying had a somewhat tribal yet refined taste in both shapes and material: his silver earrings were polished to almost appear as ivory and so was his rather large choker.

He greeted first as Clarence approached, waiting until she was close enough so he could speak at a normal volume, "Major Clarence Mora from the 118th Scintillan Fusiliers, I am lord chancellor Octavio Judes and I am proud to welcome you to Gradius, our humble planet".

As she dropped both her bags to partake in the formalities, Clarence appreciated the grace and simplicity of the lord chancellor's bow and how he bended low enough to actually offer his neck, no easy task considering the height difference. "The pleasure is mine, lord chancellor", she removed her right glove to offer her hand for shaking, keeping her back straight to give herself the dignity her physical stature did not convey, "I am glad to see the planetary government being first in line to welcome an officer of the Imperial Guard. I understand the regiment I will take command of is important to you, lord chancellor?".

His wry smile answered the question before his words did, "Please allow me to give you a brief tour of our docks, Major, for they will be you only connection to the rest of the Imperium during your stay here. We will also discuss about your assignment as we walk".

Clarence had been in worse places as far as docking stations went: Gradius was primitive enough to not have an orbital facility, but rather a few surface structures only fit to receive shuttle traffic. To her understanding and according to the dataslates she received, she just docked at the major one, which was strangely quite far from the planetary capitol, even accounting for security reasons; the reports however assured that the military headquarters were very close and well-connected. At least for what passed as "well-connected" on this planet, she mentally added.

She noticed a few forklifts on their way to the shuttle; the embossed two-headed eagle featured prominently on one side of every vehicle, meaning the supplies were reserved for the Imperial Guard, as she imagined. Even though the infrastructure was very spartan, sometimes even bare when it came to added functionalities, it was efficient in carrying out its intended purpose; the workers looked amazingly normal too, although they were certainly fewer than she expected even accounting for a scarcely populated world, and but a laughable speck of dust compared to the bigger facilities she grew accustomed to in her careers, with lines upon lines of servitors, stacked upon each other in multiple layers, with wires and tubes and all sort of technological mysteries connecting them to their devices, the walls, each other or who knows what else.

If anything, the staff seemed to amount mostly to technical operators, with the distinct lack of figures wearing the typical red robes of a Magos. A note of worry passed through her head, as she wondered who took care of vehicle maintenance if the ranks of the Adepto Mechanicus were so slim.

The Lord Chancellor proved to be a welcoming and well-mannered guest, dispensing somewhat obvious information about the workings of the shuttle dock which however proved useful for Clarence to understand just how much of a backwater assignment she had received. As the visit ended, they emerged in the ample clearing the dock was built in, and she found herself temporarily dazed from the scent of nature and fresh air; even though she had served in battles fought in a world with little in the way of industry and pollution before, Gradius' air had something to it that picked at her nose, and a bit at her head as well.

The Chancellor proved to be enough of a gentleman to hide his obvious amusement as Clarence struggled to keep a straight face, "Do not be concerned, major. Gradius has a particular vegetation, but the air you're breathing is completely harmless. You'll be accustomed to it before you know".

It was unsurprising that such information wasn't present in the dataslates given to her, it was the kind of information she expected the Administratum to miss or to not consider important. However, her brief talk during the shuttle dock tour was enough to give her the idea that there were plenty of details her data supplies failed to provide, and she just wondered if it wasn't intentional.

Several vehicles were parked outside, most of them sporting large, thick wheels fit for off-road travel, and considering she could only see pressed dirt where she expected a proper road or pavement to be, she figured this would be where she started to experience the feral part of the world.

Then, she noticed a mechanical saviour not far from the exit: the familiar frame of a Chimera armoured transport, with proper tracks, no skirts, and packed with extra promethium tanks, extra supplies, extra shovels and a dozer blade in the front, showing more than a moderate amount of use. The personnel carrier had quite a bit of extra bits installed with the notable exception of additional armour: poking from the hull and the dozer blade itself was the tip of a flamethrower, and the somewhat oddly high turret sported two rotary autocannons, supported by a pintle-mounted gun whose pattern she couldn't recognize, but clearly fired some kind of solid projectile as it had none of the trappings of a las weapon.

She could very clearly make out the imperial Aquila and the logo of the 76th Gradius on the side, the latter of which was present often and in high detail in the dataslate reports she had plenty of time to browse. However, the brief lapse of civilization ended as soon as she came to her senses and made the appalling realization that the vehicle's colour scheme actually fit with its surrounding despite the outlandish look.

She had no room to complain about bright, shiny colours as the baroque uniform she wore sported only the most eye-catching degrees of white, blue and red, topped with a stylishly black tricorn hat that gave impressive dignity to what would have otherwise been an ordinary set of carapace armour: however, the jungle camo on the chimera was painted in such bright, shiny colours it would have been a miracle if it could fool anyone instead of acting like a painted bullseye.

Clarence instead found that, once her feet were down to earth level, Gradius' jungles were actually rather brightly-coloured and the vegetation was more bizarre than it looked from high above, with flanged ochre climber plants and crimson vines and aquamarine berries. She was obviously too distant for a closer observation, but she was also carrying somewhat of a heavy luggage and while her military discipline commanded her to not show fatigue, her undisciplined, traitorous arms were starting to complain.

She briefly gave her limbs quarter as she set her bags down to appear proper in front of her new subordinates: the crew that was idling about the Chimera and stood on attention as soon as she and the chancellor approached. "SALUTE!", the sergeant ordered, and the crew complied immediately, idly impressing Clarence who wasn't quite sure what to expect from a feral world army and her imagination provided little in the way of military discipline.

Her visit to the docks gave her plenty of information about the population itself: they could speak gothic, they were not new to the concept of cleaning and grooming, and actually seemed to take good care of their hairs and beards, though it seemed customary to wear both long.

The guardsmen themselves, however, were all women. Despite the fact being clearly stated on the reports, Clarence frowned noticeably as she witnessed the truth she was prepared to face; she decided on letting that expression show to give her a sterner look as she answered the salute. The five women in front of her were all rather young, wearing helmets that did nothing to hide how all but two wore their hair long albeit collected into either braids or ponytails so as to not get in the way.

And, most importantly, they were all taller than her. Nearly a head taller.

"At rest", Clarence conceded after she was satisfied with the display; their uniforms wore the same camouflage pattern as the paint on the chimera: bright, shiny colours, brown included, with speckles of amber and crimson, although used mostly for trims and decoration. They all carried solid projectile sidearms and much longer knives than their standard issue gear; they also looked somewhat nervous, or maybe perplexed, at the sight of their new commander.

"Allow me to introduce your new commander. She is major Clarence Mora, from the 118th Scintillian Fusiliers, veteran of the Battle of Halfpass and who served in the Campaign of Corbellus Ignis. Starting from today, she will be the commanding officer of the 4th company; I trust the preparations are ready?".

"Yes, lord chancellor, everything is ready and everyone has been informed", the sergeant, a gray-haired woman that looked short only when next to her comrades, used a different and much more natural tone when addressing the man than she did when she turned to Clarence again, "Commander, we will escort you to headquarters. If you are ready to leave".

"I am, sergeant. Let's get going", the woman nodded and saluted in answer, then ordered two of her subordinates to help the commander with her luggage, at which point Clarence set her outstretched hand forth in stern refusal, "No. I like to carry it myself, thank you".

The pause was visible as the crew was unexpectedly thrown off their expectation, at which point the sergeant ushered them to climb back in the vehicle and gave Clarence another salute before boarding herself.

The interior was painted in much brighter colours than she had come to expect in her military career, as if the users tried to make the experience of being shuffled back and forth or straight in the middle of a battlefield as soothing to the eye and mind as possible, all while keeping the colour scheme in tone with the exterior. The chancellor, who had previously insisted in being tasked with introducing Clarence to the crew, also insisted in accompanying her to the headquarters and sat opposite in front of her.

Since there were just two passengers, there was plenty of room for luggage, but most importantly Clarence was quite sure she could have a private conversation with the man right now. As she put her hat right next to herself, she decided it was the right moment to demand some answers on the several, now painfully obvious gaps in the information she received regarding her new assignment.

"May I ask what the previous commander was like, chancellor?", she had figured out the Lord prefix was for show, a local habit of sorts, as his duties and responsibilities were no different from that of a high-ranked representative of the planetary government, regardless of name.

The Chancellor's smile was, again, worth more than the words themselves, "Ah, yes. major Sendrick Albaster, I do remember the man. He had quite a charming personality, you could say, and a fiery disposition towards the enemies of mankind. He sought battle with fierce conviction and was yet caring for his subordinates", he chuckled for a few moments, "Indeed, it wouldn't be a stretch to say the 4th company loved him. His passing was a bad blow to their morale".

Clarence frowned; she knew who the previous commander was and pretty much every detail of his career, but the reports didn't mention anything about his personality or relationship with the company he was assigned to. His replacement didn't quite come in record time, but it came pretty fast considering what little strategic importance Gradius had and the small amount of guardsmen it tithed to the Imperium's cause, which meant it wasn't impossible the soldiers were showing some hostility because they still couldn't accept a substitute to his figure.

She was fully aware of this possibility from the beginning, and such problems were quite documented in the Imperial Guard; she heard plenty of stories, none of them nice, about the merging of the 23rd Scintillan and the 426th Catachan, and despite the friendly fire ratio was considered to be well within acceptable levels she never found the prospect reassuring when she readied herself to face her entrance into the 76th Gradius. After all, she had to keep friendly fire down to absolute zero as she was the only back they could shoot at.

"I have also been informed that the regiments in this planet are still rather feral, even when it comes to their equipment and tactics", Clarence pressed, focusing her full attention on the man, "And that it makes ample use of abhumans, but I have yet to see one".

This time there was a pause where she came to expect a smile, "What you have seen in the docks is the staff working there. Highly qualified and well-schooled. Rest assured that you were not fed false data, major- or should I say commander", he managed to create the circumstance to slip a smile in, but the comment about the data gave Clarence confirmation that something was intentionally amiss, "The majority of this planet is indeed rather primitive, there are few isolated exceptions and we do not sport the hive cities that cover the more advanced planets. I am sure that with time you will better acquaint yourself with the populace".

The ride was somewhat rough, meaning the lack of proper roads was a very widespread problem, and between the noise and the engine and that of the tracks, Clarence had to raise her voice quite a bit to continue her conversation, "Were you also lacking in officers? I find it somewhat odd that nobody from this planet could substitute my predecessor", she put a brief pause before deciding to add another question that kicked in her head ever since she first read the dataslate reports, "And pardon me if the question is silly, but I was under the impression the guardsmen from Gradius were actually all women. Was major Alabaster assigned from somewhere else?".

And here the chancellor smiled again, "Just like it's thanks to missionaries from the Imperium that this world pledged its alliance to the Emperor, your presence here will be very positive to the growth of our army, no, of our planet as a whole. Indeed, major Alabaster was not from this world, as the guards that remain on the planet have little actual combat experience", he took a moment to scan Clarence's figure with a visibly satisfied look, "I have heard the Scintillan Fusiliers possess impeccable training, their honour unblemished and their discipline unwavering; I am more than certain you will soon become the prominent figure our soldiers need".

"Is that why the planetary government decided to pull its weight in directing assignments for the Imperial Guard?".

Clarence internally gave herself a prideful pat on the back seeing how her sudden, straightforward question instantly erased the smile from the chancellor's face, substituting it with a neutral expression that still showed the respect one gives to a predator when out in the wilds, "Rest assured, Commander, that we are all loyal to the Emperor, and if a breach or two were made in etiquette it was with the best of intentions".

Having heard what she wanted, she gave an understanding nod and tried her best to relax on the passenger seats, designed for quick deployment in and out of the battlefield and therefore far from being pleasant to sit in for prolonged amounts of time.

"Besides, commander, it is not like your assignment here is a punishment".

And while she silently glared at the chancellor, she felt her irritation mounting as that wry smile returned to his face.


	2. Part 2 - Of savages and discipline

Clarence couldn't say she was impressed with the headquarters, albeit in the time between she disembarked from the Chimera and she signed the few last stacks of frail, easy to misplace and lose paper that the Administratum insisted on keeping the Imperium swamped in, plenty of new realizations dawned on her.

Firstly, for being a planet where a senior officer would want to retire in while still pretending to be part of the military it had at least one personality in the government that was well-connected and busy enough to summon an officer from another sector; specifically, someone who needed a nice trip somewhere she couldn't step on her more politically inclined superiors' toes. She suspected her predecessor was brought to his station in similar circumstances, although she had the impression the whole experience worked out much better for him, his sudden death notwithstanding.

Secondly, the 76th part of the army name was not a progressive number: every foundation of the Imperial Guard was the 76th Gradius, a bit like the Tallarn first and only, and took different names only when regiments were sent to reinforce other armies, almost inevitably becoming merged to their destination. In fact, the officers that accompanied her, and with whom she had the chance to exchange a few words before being drowned in more paperwork, told her that those who left Gradius never came back. Which was perfectly understandable, as Gradius wouldn't be en-route to anywhere an Imperial Navy vessel would want to be, and very few guardsmen ever returned home in the first place.

Thirdly, the "headquarters" were not the actual Imperial Guard's general headquarters but rather those of her own company, isolated from the rest, which were scattered around for no particular reason except for a planetary reticence to have important settlements and facilities either next to each other or well-connected enough for distance to not be a problem. Clarence wasn't sure whether it was because of feral world superstitions or actual incompetence, but she intended to find out.

And, last but not least, she was officially the shortest person in the base.

Even after emerging from the inky hell of Administratum paperwork, Clarence had much to do before she could consider herself settled in any satisfying fashion: she had to inform the commanders of the other companies that she arrived safe and sound and already started with her duties, she had to inform her superiors, whose names and ranks were barely present in the dataslates, hidden amongst personnel lists bearing little importance to her interests, and she had to personally meet as many of those people as possible, including auxiliaries and out-of-the-ranks figures, most importantly the regimental commissar, who might as well not have existed for all she knew.

She took a moment to collect herself after the paper-pushers left; her new office was small, almost cramped, and like the rest of the base was made of plasteel, with the floor painted with a natural wood colour and steel grey ceilings, whereas the walls changed depending on the section since apparently the locals were primitive enough to actually get lost in a complex that small.

Her luggage was stashed in a corner behind her, she didn't have time to undo it and she didn't even open the door to her private quarters, which were right next to her office as if they feared even the commanders could somehow get lost inside their own base. There were plenty of windows, which paired with the clear weather and bright sunshine made the interiors pleasantly lighted; her simple wooden desk had little in the way of decor but felt solid and relatively smooth to the touch, while the two rows of two cabinets on each side of the room held more papers and some trophies that she wasn't particularly eager to admire.

When Clarence decided she rested her eyes long enough and felt like her ideas were properly collected, she knocked loudly on her own desk as she stood up, circling to get in front of it, "Come in, all of you", she called.

Before being forced to deal with the Adepto Administratum for thankfully the last time in a long while, she had asked to immediately call all of the commissioned officers on base so she could meet them and at least get an idea who she was dealing with. When four women stepped inside the room, her expression turned stern enough to make them stand at attention even without orders.

She doubted the people of Gradius had access to anti-aging treatments, which meant that the four officers were all as young as they looked, which was to say none of them looked older than forty at the very best. The worst part, however, was that there were just four of them.

"Am I in front of all the commissioned officers in the 4th company?", she asked in a flowery tone dripping with sarcasm acid enough to melt through the fake wood floor.

"Sir!", one immediately answered, a well-built brown-haired woman with a square jaw, "Lieutenant Freyalise is conducting field training and captain Anna is still recovering from injuries. Everyone else is present".

"And you are...?", Clarence raised an eyebrow as the implications of that report started seeping in.

"Second lieutenant Tiana Sharprock", she dutifully answered.

"Does that mean the 4th company has a grand total of six commissioned officers?".

"Yes sir".

Clarence had little to say after receiving confirmation of what she feared to be the case: the data she received only had an estimate of the amount of guardsmen that would be under her command, and considering the figures she just received claiming their command was understaffed was a grandiose understatement. "How did captain... Anna become injured? And why are you defaulting to first name when talking to a stranger?".

Where Tiana showed confidence just a moment ago, the latest remark from her new commander visibly confused her, at which point another of the four intervened, "Sir, captain Anna was severely injured in battle while on patrol in the Tyrian system, after a land battle against hostile xeno in Tyrian III. She returned two weeks ago. She can walk and talk but the sisters at the sanatorium said it's too early to exert herself".

The blonde woman wearing her hair bound in a fanning chignon looked less imposing and intimidating than her colleague. More feminine, too, especially thanks to the bulge on her chest being so marked that her buttons looked like they were going to pop any moment, "As for the first name, I apologize on behalf of everyone, commander. We are raised giving more importance to the given name than the clan name".

Clan, what a primitive-sounding word. Clarence decided to not let her thoughts linger on the amount of strange habits the locals were assured to have, the naming conventions likely being the tamest; she however decided she could overlook such glaring lack of civilization in favour of her curiosity and choice of interrogating her subordinates personally, for her investigation was bearing plenty of fruit, "I thought nobody that travelled away from this planet ever came back?".

"Ah, er, yes sir", as she expected, the woman with the black hair and a somewhat puffy bob cut felt addressed even though Clarence didn't look at anyone in particular. She was one of the pair of officers the chancellor introduced her to and in whose care he left her after departing for the capitol. She was the only one who talked and gave most curious tidbits of information, "What I meant to say was that nobody that leaves on an assignment or a crusade ever returns, but tours and patrols and expeditions are another matter".

"Please do elaborate if you don't mind".

Clarence wasn't sure whether staring at her eyes was going to make her talk less or more or to behave better in general, mostly because that woman's eyes had the lids so close to each other they appeared to be closed all the time. She was reminded of her imperial ethics teacher back in the Schola Progenium, a nearly obese man with a bushy beard and who had a thing for wearing the most outlandish wigs and still expecting to look dignified.

"Well, whenever we receive a request to tithe guards to the cause of the Emperor, we contribute our veteran troops, but most of our operations are about sending regular troops out to patrol our systems and the nearby ones. There's hardly major conflicts, but when trouble spawns it's best to deal with it before it gets under your nose. For example we-".

"That is quite enough", judging from how the woman stiffened, Clarence gladly observed she had used the right amount of anger in her voice to convey how she had little interest for anything not directly pertaining to her question, "Do we have vessels from the Imperial Navy available for transportation?".

"No", the woman continued, "Well- not for transportation, no. They're destroyers, they do escort and patrol duties. We board a mercantile vessel".

"A mercantile vessel", Clarence's voice could hardly be more deadpan.

"An independent mercantile vessel. Oh, loyal to the Emperor, of course. They have papers that say so".

A shiver ran down Clarence's spine, she knew more than a dozen stories so full of horror that they could freeze a Karskin's blood that included some variation of the sentence "they have papers that say so". On the other hand, it meant that Gradius was less of a passive, isolated community full of primitive cavemen than she first thought, and especially that she could count on some people having real combat experience.

"Very well officers", she concluded she had done enough interrogation for one sitting, mostly because she had other reasons to call them to her office, "As you are all aware by now, I am the new commander of the 4th company, I come from a distant place and am quite unfamiliar with your habits and procedures. I intend to change that as soon as I can and I expect your help: you are to be available at the base at all times until further notice, with the exception of the injured captain. Do inform the other, Freyalise, as soon as possible".

"Yes sir!", the four women all answered in unison. They all appeared less nervous than the Chimera crew that brought her to the base, though she could still feel the typical tension that belonged in social situations where one party wasn't quite sure what to expect out of the other except that they'll have to deal with it regardless of whether they like it or not.

"The preliminary data I have received and studied regarding the 76th Gradius is insufficient for me to assume my position at full efficiency", she then continued, "I therefore intend to witness this company's workings firsthand and will spend most of my ensuing time scrutinizing your training regimen, your tactics, your equipment, and most importantly your discipline".

She also figured that showing her face around was vital as she was a complete stranger hailing from a very distant world, filling the sudden void left by a respected character and knowing little to nothing about her own company. Granted, the guards of Gradius weren't Catachans and looked rather welcoming instead, but appearances could always be deceiving and she preferred to play it safe.

"I would also like to be addressed as commander, commander Clarence Mora or commander Mora. I will not accept to be addressed by first name alone, and would rather avoid it entirely. I have to point out that Mora is my family name, it is not a clan name, the difference might be subtle and alien to you but it is very important to me", after the yes sir rite, she pointed at the unnecessarily endowed woman, "I didn't quite catch your name and rank, officer".

"Second lieutenant Dulna Tuskbearer, I apologize for my forgetfulness".

Clarence nodded in silent acceptance of her apologies. All considered they were better behaved than she first thought, although she had to remind herself she was talking to commissioned officers, which meant people who attended whatever passed for a military academy on Gradius. She intended to meet the rank and file as soon as possible, and feared that the two worlds were going to be very, very different.

"Very well. Second lieutenants Tiana and Dulna, you are dismissed, but do keep in mind your orders are to remain available on the base at all times", she waited for the two women to salute and leave the room before addressing the other two, the same pair that accompanied her from her arrival with the chancellor to the paperwork signing marathon in her new office, "As for you two, apologies but I have forgotten your names and ranks".

"It's okay sir. Er", the black-haired woman coughed to cover up what Clarence clearly interpreted as excessive familiarity as testified by her stare as sharp as mono-treated bayonets, "Lieutenant Mareilon Hawkeyed, sir, looking forward to serve you".

"Lieutenant Eu Woodstock", the other said as her turn came: a rather plain-looking woman with pale brown hair and no distinguishing features of any sort. Clarence realized only then that it was the first time she heard her talk, as she likely did not introduce herself when she first arrived, or maybe she did? Well, it wasn't important at that moment.

Satisfied with having the two of them being her personal escorts, she picked her hat back from her desk and put it on, "Show me around the base. Keep the tour brief, for I want to inspect the troops before dusk".

* * *

The base was relatively unremarkable from the outside: the standard plasteel fortifications, both freestanding and structured, only had the bizarrely bright camo typical of Gradius to distinguish itself from just about every other base of the Imperial Guard from an architectural standpoint. Of course, the headquarters were rather small for the standards Clarence became accustomed to, except for the freestanding walls which covered a much larger area than she first imagined.

All of the structures with the exception of the armoury, the command centre and a freestanding bastion were, in fact, built with indigenous materials which mostly amounted to wood, cut from the jungles that used to cover all of the base before it was built. Clarence couldn't tell whether the craftsmanship was good or bad, it was simply too primitive for her to even try and appreciate, but she assumed that it was good enough for housing the many guardsmen serving in her company.

Or, well, guardswomen as she sometimes heard them addressed as; the all-female composition of the regiment couldn't escape her even if she tried to, but worst of all she finally witnessed firsthand what the reports meant when they talked about abhuman presence. Furry tails and ears occasionally popped out of the backs and heads of some of the guards, while others were actually covered in coloured fur and sported animal snouts; she was used to the noticeable and ubiquitous differences in what passed for ordinary from a planet to another: everything from hair and eye colour to average height and girth to the colour of the skin was prone to change, variety was never a feature the guard lacked.

However, witnessing abhumans not confined to separate spaces in the camp was appalling to Clarence; she admittedly never even saw an abhuman before, let alone one that served in the guard, but the regulations assumed they were supposed to be kept somewhere that was not in the middle of camp, and certainly not sharing everyone else's living space. Granted, the regulations only talked about ogryns and ratlings and left each to its own device about the plethora of other abhumans that were registered as capable of breeding true and whose existence was tolerated by the Imperium as a whole, making Clarence grumble audibly during her visit, not even trying to appear less abrasive in front of her new soldiers.

She was actually satisfied with the result of her grumpy look: she wanted to avoid to be treated like an exotic animal parents would point at to make their children witness something from a sector they will never travel to. And it worked, she had enough of a stern and dignified air about her that the soldiers' curiosity about their new commander was also fringed with a healthy amount of dread and reverence despite everyone being about a head taller than she was.

The various non-commissioned officers saluted lieutenant Marelion first with a hard to miss familiarity before straightening up more; apparently nobody was informed about the exact moment their new commander would come and start visiting the camp. Even though word about her arrival had spread the rumour mill wasn't fast enough, probably because the barracks actually looked more like a large camp, with simple wooden structures, tents and little in the way of additional fortification other than what the imported plasteel provided for the outer perimeter, making the place rather difficult to navigate properly.

The scent of nature was partly obscured by that of sweat and roasted meat: several fire pits were placed at irregular intervals, some of them lit as the meat of native animals was being cooked, smoked or grilled with indigenous vegetables. Probably thanks to the perimeter walls, there was little to no wind and the hot and humid air did nothing to render the trip more pleasant to her nose; her eyes weren't in a better position either, for most of the women reacted to the warm climate by stripping, and Clarence was surrounded by the sight of human and abhuman females in tank tops and shorts.

As Marelion continued to chatter incessantly about the various platoons and the camp's awkward layout that somehow managed to make perfect sense to her, Clarence picked up commotion and a ring of excited guards around a scene that she instinctively knew was not supposed to happen. Due to her noticeable height difference with anyone, she couldn't really see anything without embarrassing herself, which drove her to address her guide instead, "Lieutenant, what is the excitement over there about?".

"Oh, probably a fight", she cheerfully answered, "Different platoons do that sometimes, to keep the edge".

"I cannot help but notice nobody amongst the officers is trying to stop it".

"It's okay, commander, they use blunted swords, the armour is usually enough to-", Marelion stopped, noticing that Clarence's stare was searing, directed straight to the inside of her skull and her hand was resting with meaningful intent on the grip of her sidearm. "Yes, sir", she then answered as she moved to break the circle of excited spectators and raise her voice to get everyone's attention, effectively stopping the fight.

Thanks to her intervention, Clarence could get a better glimpse of the situation: fights, especially of the organized sort, were not new to her, and she was well aware they were a real and somewhat recurrent part of life in the barracks, albeit the actual frequency of such events wildly depended on the regiment itself. What she found most infuriating, however, were the confused stares, as if nobody was expecting the lieutenant to actually stop the fun they were having and couldn't understand why the commander demanded them to. The two women directly involved in the duel with supposedly blunted swords had at least enough sense to wear their standard issue armour, and even though they both stopped without protest, the way they posed in front of their new commander clearly conveyed how they thought they were supposed to feel proud of being seen like that. Civilized regiments knew they were going against regulations and at least tried to keep such things under wraps, but this one didn't seem to understand the problem at all.

Once certain that everyone was looking at her expecting an explanation, including lieutenant Marelion, she spoke trying to control the irritation in her voice enough to not sound angrier than she wanted to, "Everyone in the camp is to report in the parade grounds, immediately, in combat gear. Anyone failing to be present and in order within ten minutes will suffer punishment as I see fit, in addition to all the repercussions there will be for the inconceivable lack of discipline I have just witnessed. Lieutenant Marelion, make sure to spread word throughout the camp, I will consider you personally responsible for every guard missing the deadline".

She then snapped her fingers to get her other guide's attention, lieutenant Whatsherface, so that she would blindly follow her like a loyal dog as she turned and marched towards the parade grounds. The confused and dumbfounded looks she witnessed were very, very far from what she was willing to put up with, and it was clear that military discipline was an alien concept in the company she was assigned to.

Truly her task of civilizing and giving dignity to Gradius' savage natives was one she would have never accepted was she given a choice; however, the planetary governor at least showed awareness of the problem, and she did not intend to disappoint him, even if she had to reach and pull every single soldier's ear personally and shout their brains out of their ears until they started complying.

* * *

Clarence managed to find the way back to her office on her own; she even forgot about lieutenant Whatsherface's presence until she timidly asked if she was still needed when she returned to the command centre. As the sun set and night fell, nearly nobody was inside the main, actually fortified plasteel structure anymore; there were little guards doing actual paperwork and those who did weren't fond of working until late.

She was tired. Tired from the trip, tired from shouting like a drill sergeant and most of all tired for the stress of dealing with her new company; she almost regretted being promoted to the rank of commander, it was certainly a good step up for her military career, but she found herself wishing she could go back to being a junior officer and having nothing to worry about except for leading a platoon of already trained and disciplined men into battle.

Devising a proper punishment for lieutenant Marelion was also going to take concentration and creativity: she had plenty of late people to take responsibility for and she had to make sure to give her something constructive to do that she would absolutely hate, but couldn't quite think of anything. She was sure that forcing her as a volunteer in the nursery wasn't going to work, for one because she expected her to occasionally do it of her own volition already, for another because she felt like having a place in the camp dedicated to keeping its inhabitants' small children was plenty already without needing to waste effort from fighting corps. Having never served in an all-female regiment she had no idea whether this kind of thing was common or not; she was well aware that certain kinds of interactions in mixed regiments would inevitably bring to certain kinds of events and wondered just how scaled up the phenomenon could be when every single guard in the regiment featured a supposedly fertile and functional womb.

At least she could confirm the presence of the Ecclesiarchy, who arrived on Gradius before the rest of the Imperium did so the local population would already be faithful to the Emperor. The thought only reminded her that she still had a long list of people to meet, from the other commanders to all of the support staff, including the company chaplain, the commissar, the overseers from the Scholastica Psykana and much more. She still had to meet lieutenant Freyalise too, for she was expected to come back late but Clarence couldn't muster the energy, nor the patience, for more interaction with savages.

She needed an aide, but at the same time she was afraid of what kind of wild, undisciplined primitive would be trying to help her organize her equals and figured that it would probably become worse. The majority of soldiers were likely illiterate, too.

As she prepared to actually undo her luggage, she noticed that the door to her private room was open. Used to different regiments, she was well aware that military encampments were not a safe place to be at night for a lone woman; she wasn't sure whether the absence of men made the prospects better in any meaningful way but her money was on no. For that reason, she was used to carry a shock rod around just in case things were to take a turn for the worse; hilariously enough, she never actually needed one until that moment.

Moving carefully and silently in the dark room as soon as her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, she quickly and without doubt prodded the figure on the bed, which yelped loudly and jumped off, falling over on the opposite side and carrying something along. Clarence struck the lights without hesitation and found a scene she didn't quite expect to have to deal with: two scantily clad women, one of them with her buttocks trembling with tension after the shocking bite, and judging from their confused reaction they were actually sleeping.

"Gentlemen- ladies", despite the mistake, Clarence was more than confident in her aim as her plasma pistol heated up, ready to fire with enough power to reduce whichever of the two she intended to hit into a steaming, gooey pile, "You have ten seconds to explain why I shouldn't shoot you".

"W-we're sorry!", their feline tails where towed between their legs, and considering the heat and humidity even at night the fact they wore nothing but panties and a tank top looked less and less suspicious, "The previous commander-".

"The previous commander is dead, and whatever he required you to do here, I do not", she frowned, but did not lower her pistol; somehow she felt like she should have expected this kind of disgraceful behaviour, she felt a little stupid for hoping her predecessor would have been a little more mature, for if he did these primitive savages' discipline wouldn't have been that terrible. She nearly squeezed the trigger on accident as she realized these two were most likely hoping to perform the same kind of nightly services even though they were aware of her gender, "Now what am I to do with the two of you? This is a serious infraction you have committed".

"I shall see to it that these guards are punishment, commander".

Clarence nearly jumped as her trained reflexes aimed her weapon at the new figure, only to hastily lower it and snap the safety back on as soon as she recognized the black and red outfit of a commissar. For the first time in the entirety of that long day, Clarence was happy to see a woman: commissars were tasked with the ungrateful job of making sure everyone in the Imperial Guard would remain loyal to the Emperor and to remove sedition and treachery before it rooted itself in, usually thanks to a well placed bolt pistol shot. When not busy dispensing such extreme measures, commissars would deal with ordinary punishment for various crimes and infractions: a much more time consuming and less grievous task, but nonetheless vital in order to keep an army running and both morale and discipline high enough to retain maximum efficiency at any given time.

The commissar clearly wasn't a Gradius native: her complexion was fair like Clarence's contrarily to the tan and chocolate skin tones that were so common amongst the soldiers that didn't sport oddly coloured fur instead, and she was just a little taller than her, but still around average for what the commander considered an ordinary woman to be like. Her gray hair flowed long and smooth behind her back and a single monocle gave her a stern yet intellectual aura.

But most importantly, Clarence couldn't even hear her coming, and she somehow managed to get very close while completely unnoticed despite the heavy boots and the equally heavy chainsword still at her side.

"A most impeccable timing, commissar", she nodded in agreement, "You will forgive me for not meeting you earlier today, it seems this regiment is in dire need of discipline".

"I am certain you will be capable of fulfilling the role of authority you are expected to, commander, but I urge you to rest, for there is much to do and this is not the appropriate time to", the commissar's tone was clear and to the point, with little waste for pauses and punctuation and yet with a determined calm that gave her soft-spoken words the weight of a mountain.

"I look forward to meeting you tomorrow at noon, then", Clarence still hadn't made a schedule for the following day and, like the current, was most likely going to improvise, but she was certain she wanted to find the time for an actual meal instead of a quick bite of rations.

"Indeed, we have to discuss punishment for these two. Amongst other things", she then shot but a glance to the two women, their cat ears crouching submissively, "I trust you know the way. Move".

The two meekly left and the commissar gave but a nod before closing the door behind herself, leaving Clarence somewhat dumbfound and confused, but alone and able to finally undress and undo her luggage, or at least the bare minimum she needed to take a shower, for her uniform was not meant to be worn in a jungle and she had been drenched in sweat for hours.

But despite returning to her bed with clean body and clothes, as soon as she slipped under the thin blankets the smell of the two women filled her nostrils, and she shivered with disgust as her mind disobeyed her and raced to imagine the kind of activities that occurred in that bed before she arrived. Surely, the sheets she was resting on were clean, but the thought couldn't comfort her.

"I'm surrounded by the stench of bitches", she grumbled before falling asleep.


	3. Part 3 - The bottom of the matter

There was no way to be certain, when engaging with new types of food, whether it would agree with the stomach or not. Clarence didn't know who prepared meals for officers but she had the inkling it was the same team of cooks that took care of feeding the rest of the base as the actual amount of commissioned officers was so diminutive they were assured to not be a burden on their work. As a matter of fact, considering the constant scent of things being grilled or cooked that wafted about the balconies of the command centre, the idea that the regiment was self-sufficient as far as cooking was concerned wasn't that far-fetched, to the point there probably were no full-time cooks at all.

The taste of her first real Gradius meal was off, although not necessarily in a bad way: the fruit was very watery, the meat tasted wild and had a mildly spicy sauce and the vegetables made her nose prickle for some reason. Everything but the meat had an odd colour to boot, but she was confident enough that it would not kill her.

The commissar only removed her hat once she sat at the small, round table where Clarence was eating; it felt more like an open-air snack or tea time in summer than a proper lunch, but the office interiors were in fact small and cramped and the balcony let a bit of cool wind pass, a welcome solace from the humid heat of the jungle. She resolved to not wear carapace armour while in the base and switched to a much lighter uniform, figuring that the hopefully small chance of being stabbed in the back was not worth wearing armour for, not in such heat.

"I trust the night brought you counsel on how to deal with last night's room invaders, commander?", the commissar spoke first and straight to the point the moment she sat, not wasting a single moment. She was almost excessively on time for the appointment, to the point Clarence felt fortunate for being used to eat so early. She still wasn't quite sure how to deal with such a personality: not that commissars scared her, she was more than certain about her loyalty and competence, she simply couldn't quite get a grasp of her character, something she always considered herself good at judging.

"The night brought questions and doubts to my weary head, I am afraid", she actually slept like a rock, but her brain started racking as soon as she started reminiscing of the past night's events, "I still cannot understand their behaviour; was it really customary for them to slip in their commanding officer's bed like that?".

"Major Albaster had a quite philosophical take on his being the only man in the base, it is possible a few of the guards engaged in relationships the military code would prefer to avoid, a kind of behaviour he was never bent on discouraging".

"But I am a woman", Clarence was visibly afraid of where that line of conversation was going to end up, "Did this element fail to register?".

She actually realized that if they were in her room to provide the same sort of company they most likely gave to her predecessor, then it was very odd, to say the least, that they fell asleep instead of being awake and active. Of course, the commissar's straightforwardness provided all the news Clarence wasn't ready to hear, "It is possible that they did not consider your gender as a barrier for that sort of relationship. However, I am inclined to believe they are simply still very attached to the deceased commander and are having difficulties dealing with the loss".

Clarence frowned, partly out of disgust at the implication these savages wouldn't falter one bit when considering nightly activities between women, and partly out of realization that her predecessor had such an unexpected popularity, even considering how he seemed to enjoy his station and encourage the kind of behaviour he should have reined in, "Wars kill people, death walks next to every guardsman in all corners of the galaxy without a pause; if they are incapable of dealing with this, they are not fit for duty. If that is the case, I intend to make corrections", she sighed and ultimately decided she had no idea how to deal with such a situation, "I will trust your judgment on what kind of punishment would be appropriate, commissar. I cannot deny you have more experience serving in this company than I do".

The commissar nodded, taking time to glance down the balcony and briefly admire the military encampment. From up above, the headquarters looked like a ragtag collection of tents, wooden structures and other miscellaneous items such as firepits, grills, fences and training dummies; from Clarence's point of view, it was a messy camp put up while on the move that ended up being less temporary than intended. "I see you are already leaving your mark on the 4th company, commander", the commissar then stated.

As a matter of fact, she did order for the troops to wake up at dawn and start exercising, tasking lieutenant Marelion with supervising the inspection of all platoons. She doubted she possessed an adequate eye for proper decor, order and discipline, but it would have kept her busy and be a fitting punishment for her inability to muster an entire encampment to attention and in combat gear with no forewarning.

"I seem to understand lieutenant Freyalise's plans were ruined because of my orders", she wondered if the commissar knew more about her officers than she did. Well, she certainly did, but Clarence wasn't quite sure just how much more seniority she had in the company, "Something about celebrating a hunt?".

"Lieutenant Freyalise is a skilled rider and personally leads the rough rider platoons. They often train by hunting large game and celebrate at night by cooking their meat for the rest of the camp".

Upon hearing the explanation, Clarence realized she should have expected the issue to be about something that primitive and unbecoming of martial dignity, "Unless there's drills or guard duty, the night is for resting. Soldiers are not expected to party like decadent heretics, they are to be ready to fight at any given moment and with discipline this lacking I frankly do not expect them to hold the line even if they were facing children armed with slings".

The commissar's expression remained absolutely neutral yet stern, her clear eyes ice cold no matter the circumstance, and did not comment on Clarence's voicing of her opinions, "Speaking of issues, commander, there is something else I would like to talk about, if you allow me to dispense a little of wisdom I gathered from serving in this company".

"I will gladly hear your counsel, commissar", she did not need to lie or be formal, she really welcomed the succour of a commissar's advice on how to deal with such undisciplined rascals.

"Your predecessor was not popular because of his ability in using his genitalia on those of his subordinates, Gradius thrives on a matriarchal warrior society and it takes more than a few tricks under the blankets to impress the locals", Clarence frowned as the commissar pretty much confirmed everything she already suspected yet still didn't want to hear about the former commander, but she was nonetheless very interested in the rest of the tale, "The reason for which he was accepted and eagerly followed is that he was the leader they wanted to follow: brave, enthusiast and unflinching in the face of danger. Most importantly, he understood what they wanted as warriors and gave it to them. If I were to use a very simple figure of speech, I would say he made it all click together".

The idea that someone who let discipline stay as low and loose as what she previously witnessed was getting something that sounded like praise from the regimental commissar didn't sit well with Clarence, who started off her first day by doing the exact opposite: yelling at everyone for not being anywhere close to the standards of discipline she would expect from soldiers ready to face the enemy, weather artillery fire, hold the line against brutal xeno assaults and give their lives for the good of the Imperium, who comprised more worlds than they could even imagine.

And yet she couldn't ignore such words coming from the commissar herself, who had more seniority than her in the company and commanded enough respect to make two abhumans larger than her meekly walk to the camp's jail without having to resort to any form of threat.

"I have lead men into battle, several times, and if I always came out alive it's because they were disciplined, thoroughly drilled and followed my orders to the letter", Clarence stood firmly on her position, "And I am not going to accept anything less than that from my own company, even if I have to personally train every single soldier from scratch".

"As you wish, commander. The company is yours, as is the responsibility to fight the enemies of the Imperium with it; mine is simply to ensure every part of the chain of command works to the best of its abilities. As I told your predecessor, as long as you bring results I will have little grounds to be disappointed with you".

That said, the commissar stood from her seat and, collecting the hat she had carefully placed on the table for the duration of their conversation, she prepared to leave Clarence alone with her thoughts again, but not before some parting words, "Speaking of which, commander, I met lieutenant Freyalise on my way here. I had her wait outside of your office during our conversation, would you like me to send her in while I'm going?".

"Yes please, that would be most kind of you", at least the hunt-loving lieutenant had enough sense to wait until an appropriate time before asking to see her commander; then again commissioned officers were the cultured and properly-speaking elements of the company, she had her chance to observe just how primitive and rough the rank and file actually was and it was giving her the creeps.

Worst of all, the commissar's message was very clear: make them behave, or else. Clarence had accounted for the possibility of being shot in the back by disgruntled primitives during battle, but she had no intention to undergo summary execution at the hand of a commissar, she wanted the grave of a hero so her memory could live glorious and unsullied amongst the honoured of the Imperium, not to have her corpse rot in a dirt pit because she couldn't meet her duty.

Unfortunately, she didn't want to waste time, and she wasn't aware of just how much leeway the commissar intended to give her. Thinking about leeway reminded her she left punishment for the two abhumans that she found warming up her bed in her commissar's hands, and found herself mildly curious as to what she would deem appropriate.

Lieutenant Freyalise arrived on the balcony with the long stride typical of Gradius' tall women, her brown hair was greying irregularly and she sported an amount of wrinkles on her face that made the occasional scar stand out even more. All in all she looked about fifty as Clarence assumed there was little to no anti-age treatment going on, which meant she was the oldest person she met on the base.

"Sir! Lieutenant Freyalise Amberake reporting, sir!", despite suspecting such a proper greeting was unfamiliar to a Gradius officer, she noticed that her movements were not stiff in the slightest, sporting a quite boisterous voice and eyes shining with the youth and fervour that her physical body was starting to lose despite her best efforts, "Sorry for not being there when you arrived, we weren't quite properly informed".

"I accept your apologies", Clarence motioned for the woman to sit in front of her, hoping she was going to be less unnerving to talk to than the commissar; if anything, what little she could already see of her personality was telling her she was going to be irritating, and for entirely different reasons, "As a matter of fact I am glad you continued your training, I am planning to practice field operation as soon as possible, this regiment is... Quite peculiar for my experiences".

"Ah, don't let the girls get to you commander", she sat with a confident smile and the bearing of a barely disciplined savage itching to go out in the jungle again, "They're young and raised on tales of glory and warrior honour, sometimes they do brash things but they're very efficient when they spot prey".

"Allow me to fill you in on how the Imperial Guard operates, lieutenant", Clarence knew this was coming, so she tried her best to not let irritation get the best of her, "We do not triumph over brute force with more brute force, or over trickery with more trickery. What sets us apart from xeno filth and traitorous scum is nothing less than discipline, constant drilling and the utmost care for our equipment, blessed by the Emperor's righteous fury".

"Well I'm sure the girls will understand, commander, give it time", her smile was affable and it hardly looked like she was trying to tease her superior, it was more an issue of not being fit for courteous exchanges. Clarence had met plenty of such people in the past without the need to prowl about feral worlds, hunting for the mysterious specimen that doesn't say "please" or "thank you" or pays due attention to not look assuming or inadvertently imply faults in another person. Still, the recent talk with the commissar was helping her nerves grate a bit less as she forced herself to let the lieutenant talk and be understanding about her manners, "We may not be the brightest lamp in the Emperor's stock, but small minds are easily filled with faith, or so the missionaries taught us. I think it's a good thing, our old commander just had to point towards an enemy and shout and we'd tear it apart. Worked wonders while it lasted".

Freyalise's smile, and her bright-eyed expression, were telltale signs that she was itching for more combat despite having already seen possibly more than anyone else, a behaviour Clarence already found on certain veterans, the sort that always volunteered for the bloodiest of jobs. She never could tell if they were looking for more glory, a fitting end to their lives, or were just bloodthirsty, and she had no clue on what to expect from her lieutenant either.

"I will require more than just that out of all of you", Clarence then insisted, trying to not give more ground than absolutely necessary, "In fact, I want to put this company to test as soon as possible. Field training, war games, operation drills. What's our specialty? My data only mentioned the regiment being light infantry".

"Logistics", the lieutenant quickly answered.

"Logistics", the commander repeated, deadpan. The news took a bit to sink, but when they did, many things about her assignment finally made perfect sense.

"The first three companies are our main infantry forces, fourth company is logistics, and then we have plenty of divisions for armoured forces, air support, artillery and so on", Freyalise was not privy to Clarence's internal turmoil and growing anger, although for once it wasn't directed at her new subordinates, but rather towards her company of origin with a very specific focus on certain few individuals.

"And, pray tell", she tried her best to not let her emotional state slip out and show on her features, and it took all of her effort to barely succeed, "What does our company take care of? Certainly, the 76th Gradius cannot be such a nightmare to mobilize, especially with no conflicts on note in the proximity".

"Yeah, well, the truth is we don't really do much".

The table shook as Clarence stood with a sudden, energetic motion, obviously failing to pretend she slammed her hands on the flat surface to help herself to her feet. It took her a moment of pause, in which she forced herself to hold her breath, before she allowed herself to open her eyes again, staring at a still sitting and mildly confused lieutenant.

"I have just remembered I have yet to speak with the other commanders. I am sure the first three companies are in need of logistic support for our system-wide patrols and will not shy away from performing a little bit of cleanup throughout the sector", the fact her voice was back under her control was a sign that she knew exactly what she was saying, and the plan inside her crafty head was becoming more defined and elaborate by the moment.

"Well, sure, I- Heh", Freyalise stood up as well, if anything so she wouldn't be left behind as her commander set out with a good pace, at least for such short legs, "I'm glad to see you in such high spirits, commander. The girls will love you".

"I don't want their love", a grimace briefly passed on her expression, "I want their utmost obedience".

"They'll give you that, too...", and as they passed the office and reached the internal and always empty-looking corridors of the command centre, a thought crossed the lieutenant's mind as she looked around for something she couldn't find, "Er, commander? Where is your aide?".

"Don't have one", she answered without stopping, her destination clearly burned in her mind despite having had very little time to acquaint herself to the structure.

"What? No no no no no, commander", it took nearly no effort for Freyalise to move in front of Clarence, having the advantage of a fit body and, most importantly, longer legs, "You cannot just take all of the company on your own two shoulders".

Clarence stopped, glaring with blazing intent at her aging subordinate, her hand inadvertently resting on her sidearm, "Are you perchance implying I am not capable of fulfilling my duty?".

"No. No that is not what I said", she quickly explained, "What I mean to say is that it's not good to let every small thing be a burden to you. You have commanded all lieutenants to be on base all the time, just delegate all the minor issues to us, we can handle them".

"Certainly you understand that you, just like the rest of the company, will have to work hard to earn my trust?".

"Allow us to try and I promise we won't fail", she smiled with enough confidence to make Clarence suspect that woman must have said the same exact sentence to someone else, time ago, "And forgive me for insisting, but I do believe you need an aide".

"Is it absolutely necessary?", the idea of having one of those savages stumble behind her trying to not be a hindrance was not very appealing to the commander, but she at least wanted to know why Freyalise insisted so much.

"Well commander, with all due respect, we are simple folks and all your fancy words are a bit much for our baseline gothic. It'd be best if you had someone familiar that could translate- er, or help better convey your intentions?".

"Allow me to make an educated guess", Clarence frowned, seeing where this was going, "My predecessor had an aide, and you are thinking of assigning her to my side as well since she seemed to have performed so well with the outsider you had before. Is my assumption correct?".

Freyalise was disoriented for a moment, but in the end she sported a satisfied smile, "As I thought, commander, your wits are no match for us".

* * *

Roaming again through the poorly organized camp gave Clarence the impression that her soldiers were starting to get the idea that she was a strict commander. Plenty more people actually bothered to salute her as she walked alongside Freyalise, compared to her previous trip with Marelion. They weren't going far from the command centre, and still being able to see the plasteel structures allowed her to pretend she was still somewhere normal where civilized people were collected to train for war against the enemies of the Imperium.

And the more she witnessed firsthand what her company looked like, the more confident she became that they were too scantily dressed and relaxed to be rightfully called soldiers. Regardless of Freyalise's reassurances, she had yet to see her company in action, and couldn't decide whether she was eager or worried.

"Don't worry, commander, she won't disappoint you. Been serving your predecessor quite fine. Did I mention she's also a qualified vox operator? You're gonna need her if you want to give orders, just let me bring her here and you'll see", she looked rather eager to show this fabled aide to her, so she took a deep breath and bellowed loud enough to cover all ambient sound for a few moments: "PUFFYBOTTOM! C'MERE!".

Of course she wouldn't take a step to look for her herself, or ask an NCO to do it in her stead, not with a voice like that. The nearby soldiers, busy keeping a fire cracking in a stone pit for no reason but that of smoking something that looked like meat in long strings that could have been fish if there were rivers nearby, looked around as if they expected this Puffybottom to be just around the corner.

"Don't worry, she's around here, I'm sure of it. HEY PUFFYBOTTOM! C'MERE! NOW!", for a brief moment Clarence considered whether the nickname was something her predecessor gave her and that somehow stuck even amongst her officers. She wouldn't put anyone on base above such level.

However, when what she assumed to be Puffybottom arrived, she couldn't help make that expression that got everyone nearly on attention and a little further away from her. Like every woman on base, she was tall and dressed like someone who spent every day in the middle of a hot and very humid jungle, except maybe for the cape of flowing, wavy blond hair and the light brown furred bunny ears poking out from her head. The last detail in particular nearly made her cringe if she wasn't busy being pissed.

"So are you the aide of my predecessor?", Clarence's voice only sounded neutral, but Puffybottom's ears perked up instantly, picking up danger just like a wild animal, "I cannot say I am impressed".

"Sir!", the abhuman tried to look disciplined while gulping down the knot in her throat that she got from merely being in front of her new commander, "C-corporal Mires Longstride ready to serve, sir!".

"Puffybottom's a good girl, commander", the lieutenant didn't even use her first or last name, or clan name or however these primitives called it, "Allow her to help, you can't go wrong with her".

Clarence wasn't even sure if she was supposed to call her Mires, corporal or tag along with the Puffybottom thing. However, it was true that she was probably closer to her predecessor than anyone else, making her at least tangentially valuable; that Sendrick Albaster managed to make the company work, and she wanted to learn exactly how he did it, even though she was still quite sure it had to do with the use of genitalia, something she wasn't going to resort to even if she had the proper equipment.

"I don't need good girls, I need competent soldiers. Are you a competent soldier, corporal?".

"Sir! I am a qualified vox operator and I served in the company command group, sir!", Clarence could tell from the abhuman's eyes that she had nothing else going for her, or she wouldn't have the desperate look of someone who would panic should more examples be requested.

Then again, it meant she had actual combat experience, which made her a rare specimen according to her understanding of the company, "Very well, corporal. I will allow you to serve as my aide, but I expect you to prove your worth".

"Y-yes sir!", despite the bit of stuttering and some shyness she could excuse with having to face a real officer for what was probably the first time in her entire career, Clarence decided that she could afford giving this Puffybottom a chance. After all, she really needed a bit of support, because she had many things to do and too little time to take care of all the menial tasks herself.

"Lieutenant, who is her commanding officer?".

"That'd be me, commander", and Freyalise gave a knowing smile, "Grab her, you won't regret it".

"I really hope so, lieutenant", she also hoped that she was good for something and not just a useless bunny, only good for her sex appeal, "Corporal, you're moving to the command centre, your lieutenant will assign you a room, you are to remain available at all times to work for me until I explicitly say otherwise. You will move your things this evening, for now you are to come with me. Immediately".

"Y-yes sir!", Clarence was going to tolerate spending her afternoon stuck in a room with an abhuman female in shorts and tank top, if anything because she still had so much to plan and at the same time she deemed having so little time to waste. Between the talk with the commissar, the show her soldiers were putting and her retinue of officers she was looking forward to test her new company and see how much of their confidence was going to hold.

* * *

Although she expected to have missed something in her present and current days, both very hectic, Clarence didn't consider the possibility that her predecessor might have left something of significance in the office. Her new aide, however, had already started showing a satisfying degree of usefulness by revealing that the former commander kept a diary or something similar hidden beneath pointless papers in the lowest drawer of her desk, which was locked, and whose key was hidden inside the Munitorum manual, placed in the highest drawer.

Definitely not the most impregnable of fortresses, but it would have resisted a passing search. She found herself wondering just who would search the commander's own office, especially after she arrested a pair of cat girls who thought her bed was a free for all. She also wondered how her aide knew of this, but according to her the owner of the diary wasn't overly concerned in hiding its existence from Puffybottom of all people.

Casually flipping through the pages of the relatively compact diary with a green synthetic cover, Clarence's attention picked up little of interest aside from the mention of a few names: the chancellor, the other commanders, military jargon and a few figures about what eventually became her company. She had no way of telling how accurate they were, but apparently he was, at one point, really looking forward to customize his command Chimera APC. Judging from the high amount of extra parts she had seen put on the one she was picked up with, she wondered just how common such a thing was.

As she looked up from her notes, she saw her aide kneeling down to rummage through some of the files stored in her office's shelves; she already went through enough bureaucracy to last her for a while, and had no intention of personally nosing there again when she could make someone else do it in her stead, especially someone with a certain familiarity with where things were.

Her attention was drawn by her aide's abhuman features, namely the short yet fluffy brown tail poking out from her camo shorts, twitching and waggling most likely without direct input from her owner. It was only at that moment that it dawned on Clarence, making her feel both very stupid and very irritated. Puffybottom. Really a nickname worthy of the regiment she was in.

"... Sir, are you okay?", Puffybottom was most likely worried by the extremely intent pressing of Clarence's fingers on the bridge of her own nose, as if she intended to take it ransom to threaten her headache to stop by all means necessary. That, and to stop thinking about her aide's fluffy backside.

"Disregard what I said about reports, corporal, I have another task for you", Clarence tried her best not to look too disoriented by the sanity-wracking realization, "I want you to inform all of my lieutenants to ready their troops for special drills. In the following five days, I will be personally supervising each of their platoons' training. Inform them that the order will be as following: Tiana tomorrow, then Dulna, Marelion, Freyalise and...", she paused, "... I forgot the last one's name. I will visit the captain on the sixth day, I understand she is still injured".

"She is, sir, but she can walk".

"While you are there, inform them that I will be organizing a little war game with the second company next week", she wondered if she shouldn't step ahead of herself, since she still had to meet the other commanders in the first place, but she had the inkling it wasn't going to be atrociously difficult to get the respective soldiers bashing heads against each other, "Do we have reliable long-range communication? I will be too busy to visit their headquarters in person".

"We do, sir. I will inform the Magos if you wish".

So they did have someone from the Adepto Mechanicus on base? Clarence was now certain she had to take a break after that week to just walk around the base and meet everyone. Especially because she was also sure there were psykers lurking around, and they weren't an issue she was planning on let lie for longer than absolutely necessary. "Please do, corporal. You are dismissed, but return immediately after you're done".

"Yes sir!", and she promptly turned and left, giving another glimpse of her nickname. Clarence took the chance to facepalm and sigh; she looked at least sufficiently competent and even someone as strict as herself couldn't order something as unreasonable as never showing her back to her. Which meant she had to put up with that fluffy wiggling whether she liked it or not.

Trying to distract herself from the thought of abhuman rumps, Clarence shook her head and started flipping through her predecessor's diary again, taking her time to read it more carefully and hopefully find something useful to her current situation, or that she could use to better organize those war games. She still had no idea what her company excelled at, and "logistics" made them sound like couch potatoes, which was very weird considering how savage and thriving to beat each other with swords those primitives were, even though, according to Freyalise, they "didn't do much".

During her flipping, she frowned. She stumbled upon an apparently boring passage about the transfer of military supplies, mentioning something about some of them being left unmarked and transferred in parcels that were separate from the rest, sometimes making stops at the fourth company's HQ before leaving for somewhere else. Her predecessor merely attributed such events to faults in the Administratum and slips in paperwork, which were to be expected when most of the regiment couldn't read.

Clarence too was aware that even with literate soldiers, wrong shipments and faulty supply lines were commonplace in the Imperial Guard: the one size fits none factor for equipment, receiving lasgun packs of the wrong pattern, anti-plant grenades instead of krak and so on. While Scintillan regiments were definitely more pampered than the average in such regards, she could clearly remember of that time where she was in desperate need for a batch of bastion-breacher shells for her Medusa artillery tanks and opened the supply crates her men nearly died to bring only to find out they were packed to the brim with compasses.

Despite her attention and flipping, she couldn't discern much useful information, but she was sure that these weird behaviours and slips in form were not limited to accidents or expected amounts of Administratum errors: if they were, her predecessor would not have written about them. She felt like he was on to something, and she had a nagging feeling that even by just reading that diary she too stumbled upon a matter most peculiar, but couldn't quite figure it out, possibly because she was still greener than a conscript when it came to actually knowing her own company.

When her aide returned, she closed the diary, "Sir! I have informed your lieutenants. They will gladly show you their training regimen and are all looking forward to fighting the second company".

Clarence expected enthusiasm on their part, everyone in the base looked rather eager to dive into battle and she was planning to give them all the chances they needed. However, she had found herself some more worries to occupy her mind with. "Corporal, how many people know of this?", she queried while waving the green diary in the air.

"Uh...", Puffybottom blinked, not expecting such a question, "I'm not sure, sir. I don't think the ex-commander ever revealed it to anyone".

"So you are the only one in the base that is aware of its existence?".

"I... I think so, sir".

"Good", and she put it back where she found it, locking the bottom drawer afterwards and hiding the key in her pocket, "Keep it that way".


	4. Part 4 - War games

The bridge of Clarence's nose was about to file a mistreatment complaint after the copious amount of pinching and rubbing it was subjected to in the past days. The commander chose to dedicate each one of them to develop a closer bond to her new company by witnessing each of her lieutenants show off the best they could do with a demonstrative round of combat practice in which, supposedly, everyone gave their most.

Clarence was still trying to decide whether she was unimpressed or abashed at her company's performance; she could live with the idea of dealing with autoguns instead of las weapons, and having to hear their loud barking and tapping and projectiles bound by both gravity and wind. She could even appreciate how all those sounds were actually confusing in a jungle environment and would make it much more difficult for an enemy to pinpoint the location of her troops. That, however, was the farthest her compassion could go.

She had the distinct impression those savages were still struggling with the concept of effective kills and still resorted to using their brawn, along with swords, axes, knives and whatever other mean cutting implement they could put together with their own hands and their limited understanding of real technology. They were alien to the idea of bayonets, meaning that even when close combat was necessary they had the distinct disadvantage of having to switch between their melee weapons and autoguns every time, and yet were always looking to close the distance, clear sign that their primitive minds were ill-suited to understand actual tactics such as suppression fire, covered advance, fighting retreat or even just flanking.

The worst part was the lieutenants themselves: as Clarence expected, they were the "lead from the front" types, all of them, and put more concern on their own gear and abilities than in understanding the ebb and flow of battle and how to give appropriate orders to ensure a rapid victory. Not that there was anything wrong in leading from the front, she knew a fair bit about leading men into battle and experience taught her that being involved in the battle was the only way to observe its evolution and act accordingly; vox casters and second-hand information had been the doom of many commanders throughout the galaxy.

One of the numerous bumps in the road, a particularly rough one, nearly made her drop her notebook, where she resolved to write down anything she deemed worth remembering. From her first impression, each of her lieutenants was more or less specialized in some kind of field, although she had a bit of a hard time judging due to her lack of experience with guerrilla warfare and all sorts of small unit tactics and skirmish formations that, she had to admit, were actually suited for a jungle planet.

Lieutenant Tomboy's platoon was the closest thing her company had to line infantry and her drills and tactics proved an utter lack of imagination, which Clarence ultimately counted as a good point after witnessing what passed for "creativity" amongst those savages. Lieutenant Foxface showed a good knack for making use of vehicle support, although she insisted in keeping her unarmoured Sentinel walkers too close for comfort, especially with her liberal use of flamethrowers.

Lieutenant Knockers was more of a close combat and shock trooper type, and became nothing short of bloodthirsty once she was handed a combat shotgun; Clarence had seen plenty of show-offs in her career, enough to tell apart those who were only brave in training from those who were bonkers enough to actually charge through hails of bullets, and the irritatingly endowed woman belonged to the latter category, the look in her eyes didn't lie.

Lieutenant Birdrider was probably the most eager to show her numbers, but she forgot to mention that Gradius' rough riders did not make use of ordinary horses. Of course, by then it was without doubt Clarence's fault for not having seen the surprise coming, but admittedly she would never have guessed what kind of savage beast those primitives would ride into battle.

The proper name was "Garavel", and it looked like an unholy cross between a lizard and an oyster, with the face of a goose and a blocky, armoured head that it used like a mace to close the distance before biting with its sharp, jagged teeth. They squawked eagerly, whirling their flanged tails during the charge to build momentum for a forceful impact. She had no idea how they managed to keep them in check, they looked as feral as this world could offer and no reassurance from the lieutenant drove Clarence to get anywhere close to them.

Then there was Lieutenant Whatsherface, whose fields of specializations were escorts, searches and security; her demonstration was rather boring but on the bright side she did not have any qualms worth writing in her notes. Of course Clarence remembered their actual names: Tiana, Marelion, Dulna, Freyalise and Eu, she was however aware of the sheer amount of stress that built up inside her day after day and figured that she would concede herself a bit of relief, at least in her notes, so as to avoid exploding. She trusted the locals to not try and peek over her shoulders, and even if they did lack the basic, common sense courtesy to not do it, most of them weren't literate in the first place.

Another hard bump reminded her that she was not inside a proper APC, like a Chimera, but instead inside of a local vehicle not unlike the Taurus: long, with large wheels and glass wind shields instead of ports. The turret in the back allowed one of the passengers to stand and look out from the roof while being able to swivel a pintle-mounted twin-linked heavy stubber around, and further back was enough cargo capacity to carry combat gear and plenty of spare supplies, although she personally would never send something so frail in the middle of a fire fight.

Clarence became more acquainted with the base and the outlying area and came to the conclusion that, to the locals, the very existence of roads was a sign of civilization and counted as a proper building to them, rather than mere infrastructure. Parts of the base were separate from the rest, garages and vehicle depots being the most notable examples, and so were the animal pens, though she was more than glad none of those reptilian birds were anywhere near the barracks.

All those components were connected with dirt roads and weren't actually very far from each other, but due to the intervening distance each of them had a different prefab fortification, the only familiar element that made it as clear as daylight that they were still part of the Imperial Guard. Clarence's strategic thinking didn't agree with such a compartmentalized distribution of her own company's assets, she would have preferred to have everything under control so she could summon all of them in one place in case of attack. Then again, apparently nobody ever attacked Gradius, and there were no internal threats to speak of, meaning the biggest potential issue lied in the army going rogue.

Clarence was well aware of the paranoia that characterized most of the 41st millennium and that still ran rampant throughout the Imperium, including the need to split control of armed forces around and compartmentalize each company so they would be weaker and less capable of fending for themselves should a betrayal ever occur. However, she never witnessed a situation as glaring or as ridiculous as that of her own company's headquarters layout.

Worst of all, she had to take that bumpy ride whenever she wanted to look around or move from one area to another. It was a very short ride, the roads were fortunately straight and one could see the destination with the naked eye before even departing, but it was still a bother. The only place she still didn't visit and that was nonetheless related to her own company was the pseudo-Manufactorum near town, where apparently most of their equipment was produced, especially the solid projectile ammunition for their autoguns.

But, at that moment, she was only concerned in heading back to the base and preparing to meet her colleague from the second company in a teleconference. The trip was quite a bit longer since, thankfully, those savages had at least enough common sense to not do combat practice anywhere close to the base or anything else of value, or inhabited.

Her mind wandered a little as she observed the colourful wildlife pass her by at the sides of the road, which had those metal rods planted at regular distances at the edges; Clarence was told they were necessary to define every road meant to last, or the jungle's overgrowth would claim it back. She wasn't sure how they worked, or why would a few metal rods stop a jungle capable of eating pressed dirt roads, but she realized there were things she just couldn't be bothered questioning, and that was one of them.

As she looked forward from her passenger seat, her distraction reined back immediately as she spotted another vehicle, identical to hers, coming from the other direction. She quickly tapped Puffybottom, sitting dutifully behind her, and pointed ahead, "Who are they?".

The aide's bunny ears perked up as she leaned forwards to get a better look, "Either fellow Guard or PDF. No, that's Guard colour scheme, but I can't tell which company from here".

"Signal them to stop", Clarence ordered the driver, that nodded dutifully and signalled quickly with the vehicle's powerful headlights before braking with a slight swerve, not meant to block the other vehicle outright but giving the polite idea it would if they gave a reason.

The other vehicle complied and Clarence climbed down, glad she could put her feet back on solid ground without being subject to continuous bumps. It was the first time she met a Gradius guardsman, or guardswoman rather, that might not have been from her company and she found herself incapable of telling the difference; in part because she was so used, against her own sense of good taste, to see her own soldiers in rather scant dresses while on base, and in part because she was aware that the primitive scrabbles on the chest and upper arm parts of the uniform were meant to indicate the company and platoon of origin, but being in the local "language" instead of an actual, civil gothic, meant she had no idea what they actually meant.

As she took mental note to at least try and memorize the weird runes of her own company, Clarence walked towards the other vehicle as a typical Gradius woman, tall and long-haired, climbed down to meet her.

"Rather hot day for a ride", Clarence saluted, trying to break the ice and sounding normal even though she assumed that most days were that hot on such a planet; she couldn't help but notice the other answered somewhat late to the salute, betraying a kind of nervousness not unlike the Chimera crew's from when she was picked up at the spaceport, "Where are you heading?".

"Oh, we're on a supply run", the woman answered, and didn't look like she was going to add more.

"Where to?", she insisted, glancing at the vehicle. There was another woman in the passenger seat, clearly visible past the transparent wind shield that could hardly block a decent calibre autogun, and a third one in the turret spot, although she couldn't help but notice the heavy stubber itself was pointed at six o'clock, as if she never expected to use it.

"Not very far, really", the guardswoman kept being rather vague, looking back towards the vehicle herself, as if uncertain on what the point of such questions was, "It's just a supply run, we do it all the time".

Clarence had no need to be further proven how the local discipline was iffy at best, but if there was one thing she couldn't stand was the lack of respect that woman was showing towards her duty. She still hadn't come to terms with the idea of being assigned to a logistics company and therefore doomed to the rear lines of any conflict she may or may not ever become involved in, but that didn't mean she was going to let such an attitude pass.

"That is not what I want to hear from a guard", she glared at the taller woman, no longer caring about the possibility she might belong to someone else's company, "I expect you to fulfil your duty to the best of your abilities, no matter how humble the task might be. Where are your papers? Show them to me".

Judging from the woman's reaction, it must have been the first time she was reprimanded over something that unimportant-sounding. Clarence briefly wondered if she even knew what papers were as she observed her looking back at her comrades with a dumbfound look and receiving a similar expression in change.

"Well, I don't know", she admitted, "They're probably in the back with the rest of the stuff, I guess".

"You should never accept a cargo without its papers, and you should always make sure what is written matches what you are carrying, and if you can't read bring someone that can", although she was getting used to lecturing her underlings, she wished she didn't have to do it for every little thing, especially not what she considered to be the very basics of Munitorum procedures. Then again, Gradius being a distant, savage world meant she had to deal with some of the least educated individuals in the galaxy, "Do you have your papers or not?".

"Well we- we do!", the woman made an exasperated gesture, which in itself was so irritating and insubordinate that Clarence found herself instinctively undoing the strap on her plasma pistol holster.

"Then I don't suppose you have a problem if we have someone run the check you were supposed to do in the first place. Corporal Mires!", she called, motioning for her aide to come, "Kindly show the corporal what you're transporting, will you?".

Her aide's bunny ears were perked and alert as she scanned the situation, eventually entering in an awkward staring contest with the other woman. Clarence started feeling a tension in the air that she didn't pick up during her first encounter with Gradius' guard.

"Corporal", she insisted, motioning for the vehicle as she stared at the uncooperative woman, "Please check their cargo".

Receiving clearance to do so even without the occupants' explicit permission, the abhuman moved towards the back of the vehicle, and the other woman reached for her as she passed by.

Mires was showered in an explosion of hot gore as Clarence fired her pistol at the impertinent guardswoman's back, drawing and shooting so quickly as to leave both friend and foe dumbfound. She took advantage of the initial shock to aim at the passenger and double tap, a choice that proved to be overkill as the first shot ate through the glass as if it wasn't an obstacle at all and melted the second woman's face too quickly for her to even try and scream.

She instinctively aimed upwards as the third woman hastily reached for the turret to swing it to bear, but was shredded to pieces mid-process under the loud and sustained fire of Clarence's own turret operator, making her glad she reprimanded her about keeping the pintle-mounted gun braced and to bear, even though it prevented from leaning onwards and properly admiring the panorama. Clearly, a dirt road was a marvel of architecture for those savages if they deemed it worth of such consideration.

She gave said primitive a thankful nod for providing timely cover and immediately followed with an order: "Keep watch of this road, both ways. Signal whomever comes to halt, fire warning shots if they don't, you know the rest", she then pointed at the driver, "You, climb down and do a perimeter check. Don' stray too far".

Although still shocked, the two women quickly obeyed. Clarence knew all too well how shooting at one's own comrades was a terrible blow for morale, no matter how justified, and using her authority and a firm voice to impart orders would at least keep their small minds busy enough to not dwell too much on the idea that they just shot those they were supposed to fight alongside with.

Actually, it all happened because of Clarence; she had a bad feeling, an even worse hunch and chose to react with force to what she perceived as an aggression and admission of guilt. "Corporal, come with me, let us search their vehicle", she was glad that her aide promptly followed despite the sudden twist of the situation, she kept proving herself to be smarter and quicker to learn than the average Gradius specimen, which meant she was worthy of keeping close during hard times.

After Mires' quick trip to the passenger seat to unlock the trunk, Clarence's frown promptly showed that what she saw convinced her that such reaction was in the right. Several lasguns were wrapped under a dark blanket, and right beneath that, in one of the wood and metal crates she so often saw being used around her base, were several, different boxes of improperly stored charge packs.

There was only one detail that needed clearing at that point, and she really needed her aide to do it, "Corporal, I need to know whose company these soldiers belonged to". She had stopped hoping they weren't hers, because she was pretty damn sure everyone in her base could instantly recognize her uniform, thanks to it being so glamorously different from the local attire, and those three looked like they had no clue they were talking to an officer, which meant it was impossible they belonged to the fourth company.

Mires did her best to avoid staring too much at the carnage: the effects of a plasma pistol on human flesh weren't a nice sight no matter how jaded a soldier could become. She carefully examined the arm markings of the one with the exploded chest, and then, clearly against her first intentions, moved to examine the markings on the other, still warm corpses.

Even accounting for the disgust her aide showed in witnessing how the weaponry the Guard was employing could reduce their own human flesh, Clarence knew good news weren't inbound. "Sir, I... I'm not quite sure where they come from".

That admission alone was enough to get her frown to deepen further, a feat Mires must have deemed impossible judging from her face, "Please explain yourself, corporal".

Fighting her own reticence, Mires kneeled by the first dead and showed the incomprehensible scribbles on the upper part of the sleeve, "Well, sir, every soldier has markings indicating the company and platoon they belong to on their uniforms and combat armour. The problem is this", and she tapped on one of the rune-like parts, "This is... Incorrect".

"Incorrect how?".

"It could be a six or a nine", Mires frowned, frowning at her own words, "They are very similar numbers, I mean that they look alike and it's possible to confuse them from afar, but now that I'm seeing them up close it's... Well, it's just a mistake. It's neither a six or a nine, it's a meaningless scrabble".

Clarence couldn't find better words to describe what still didn't register as writing to her and honestly couldn't tell the difference between what her aide called a meaningless scrabble and the other, supposedly correct letters and numbers, which she couldn't even tell apart. Still, she had the feeling that her own ignorance of how the locals were used to work made her notice that something was off. Or rather, more off than normal, "Is it common form to not have proper papers and not take inventory when moving supplies?".

Her aide shook her head, "No, sir. Well, I must be completely honest and say I wouldn't be surprised if it happened a few times, but I can assure you it is not a regular occurrence; I have read plenty of such reports when I worked for the previous commander and most of the times they were correct".

Most of the times. At least she appreciated the honesty, thought it meant she simply might have overreacted and murdered some people in cold blood because of a misplaced paper, although she remained that the reticence that woman showed in obeying a very simple order, let alone recognizing an officer, was more than enough for a summary execution.

"Sir", Mires then continued, her tone betraying the doubts filling her head, "Do you think... Do you think they were smuggling weapons?".

"Are you trying to find a justification to my actions?", Clarence stared right in her aide's eyes, making her blink and refrain from opening her mouth, realizing she had to weight her words very carefully before uttering them. Seeing that the abhuman was incapable of finding a way to express her thoughts that she could consider safe, Clarence continued, "I will have you know, corporal, that I consider myself to be a good judge of character, and that woman was a terrible liar".

Tired of staying too close to a corpse to examine primitive markings that not even the natives could write correctly, she rose to her feet, her aide quickly following, "Corporal, grab the vox and call the commissar, I must inform her of what happened".

* * *

Although she had just boasted her ability in reading people and their intentions, Clarence found herself cursing the commissar's inscrutable expression. She remained unfazed at the sight of the plasma massacre, jaded to the blood and gore that sprayed around the dirt road, on the now unmanned vehicle and the jungle foliage; whatever her ideas were on the issue, there was no way to be aware of them until she decided to speak.

Fortunately for the commander's nerves, she eventually did albeit not before taking her sweet time examining the scene, "Commander, may I ask what made you take the choice of shooting first?".

"They failed to recognize an officer on duty, obey a direct order and resisted a search", Clarence felt her determination strengthen the moment she was directly questioned on the issue, "Their insubordination was in excess to what I had come to expect even accounting for lack of proper discipline, so I had assumed they were infiltrates, or smugglers".

The commissar didn't budge an inch, continuing to stare for a few moments, as if expecting more, "I see", she then conceded, "Commander, while I cannot confirm the identities of the three, I can state without doubt that the uniforms they are wearing are in violation of the Munitorum's standards".

"That means they're fake", Clarence was frowning so often that the point between her brows was starting to hurt, "So they were smugglers".

"Although that appears to be the most likely conclusion, I will have to conduct a proper investigation", the commissar remained perfectly neutral in both her tone and pose, "If they indeed are smugglers, it does not rule out the possibility that they are also part of the Imperial Guard. If that is the case, we need to discover their company of origin and their method of acquiring weaponry, not to mention their destination".

Clarence forced herself to not speak, allowing the commissar to continue, "Needless to say, if they were as confident in their routine as you claim, it is without doubt that they are not acting alone but are rather part of an organized group. This, of course, assuming they actually were smugglers and not simply a group of very stubborn people with little respect for proper regulations".

Not even the commissar arrived on a Chimera, using one of those Taurus-like wheeled vehicles instead, aboard which there were a few guardsmen she brought to do the dirty work of moving the bodies, "Feel free to return to your duties, commander. When I will have finished investigating, I will share my findings with you".

"Thank you commissar", Clarence decided there was little to gain from pressing the issue or asking question, let alone stay around. After all, she already did all the investigation she could do before the commissar arrived. Returning to her own vehicle, she couldn't help but notice her aide was following her rather closely and giving her a rather admiring stare when she thought she wasn't looking.

She still wasn't sure whether the abhuman was competent yet fearful or just a shy and quiet type; she had a look and demeanour that didn't exactly drip liquid courage, although it probably was just because of her rabbit features and the implications that followed with looking like that kind of animal.

The rest of the trip went smoothly and was especially quiet. Nobody had anything to say about what just happened, although seeing the commissar proceed with investigations gave the event an "official" sanction, meaning at the very least those soldiers could feel justified in having participated in the slaughter of what may or may not have been their comrades. It probably wouldn't have made them sleep any better, but Clarence was more concerned about not appearing like a bloodthirsty monster, exploding people's chests for as little as not answering a salute.

As soon as she returned to her office with her aide, she put her tricorn hat on her desk, at the place she always kept it since she was enough of an officer to have a desk. "Corporal, I know we just arrived, but could you please organize that meeting with the commander of the second company? I would like to set up a friendly match before next week".

Mires halted in confusion, "S-sir? Are we still doing that?".

Clarence looked up, trying not to frown so as to avoid prematurely filling her forehead with the wrinkles her age still didn't show, "Why would we not?".

"I...", the abhuman was clearly at a loss of words, "I thought there was the matter of the investigation...".

"Allow me to try and explain using simple words", Clarence leaned on the desk with her elbows, "We have, by pure chance, intercepted a group of smugglers who were not aware that I am the commander of the fourth company even though, I am certain, I have made quite an impression, at the very least due to the looks of my uniform. I am also quite sure that the... Guardswomen's talkative nature ensured this kind of rumours would spread".

Mires nodded, showing that she could follow her commander's line of thinking, "Although this means I probably did not murder my own soldiers, there is still the issue that, I suspect, this is not the first time such an event occurs, even if it's likely the first time it was stopped. There are two problems to this", Clarence counted them off on her fingers, "The first is that somewhere, somebody is going to be quite disappointed that their shipment of stolen military supplies aren't coming, and it will take them little effort to discover who is the culprit of such shortcoming".

Making sure her aide was following, she counted the second point off her finger, "Second, the commissar's investigation will inevitably come around the point where she will ask herself: who is responsible for the transportation of military supplies between deposits and armies?", she paused a moment to give the abhuman an idea before saying it, "Logistics. Which would be us".

"But... Neither of us is a smuggler!", she protested, at which point Clarence experienced a strange, nearly electric and vaguely unpleasant feeling, probably spasms of long buried maternal instincts as she nearly felt like she was doting on a young and naive daughter.

"Corporal", she patiently explained, "I am the commander of the fourth company. We deal in logistics. Any breach in security on this field is a shameful mar on my own career and reputation. Forgoing the war games would be an implicit acknowledgement of my inability to deal with the situation swiftly and efficiently. What I want to make known, instead, is that the situation is under control and there is no need for dire measures".

The soothing flush of satisfaction ran over her skin as she witnessed her abhuman aide's look of understanding, "Sir, I understand. I will contact our Magos so he can organize a teleconference with the commander of the second company".

"Yes, corporal. Thank you".

Clarence gave herself a few moments to feel surprised as soon as Mires left her office. That bird-riding lieutenant was right, her aide was in fact helpful and not as ignorant and irritating as she expected her to be. Or maybe she was simply rather quiet as opposed to boisterous and proud as everyone else on base was.

But she had no time for that, she reached for the drawer in which her predecessor left his diary and started flipping again. She had the time to read a few concerning passages but a few days ago, and after her recent incident they were taking a new and much more dangerous slant. Her intuition was telling her that something was lurking in the dark, and the previous commander, although certainly too busy trying to satisfy the carnal desires of the entire base to conduct a proper investigation, was nonetheless very close to discovering something.

She just hoped his death had absolutely nothing to do with it.


End file.
